


Star Spangled Banner

by BlueMaple



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aliens suck, Angst, Bromance, Bruce Likes His Literary Quotes, Comfort, Gen, Hearts All Around (Mostly), Manhattan Is A Mess, Steve Likes His Breakfast, Stress, Temporal Confusion, Tony is Irritating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMaple/pseuds/BlueMaple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cap and Banner have a conversation in the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion. Much Personal Angst and Self-Reflection Ensue. Yay for new friends!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Star Spangled Banner

Once upon a time and long ago, Steve Rogers had thought he'd understood the science, if not the art, of war. There were the good guys and the bad guys, and it was the bad guys' job to provide the good guys with work, and the good guys' job to make their investment worth everyone's time and effort. Rogers, of course, had been one of the good guys – The Good Guy for awhile – but times had changed, and the world had changed, and the definitions of good and evil changed along with them, and once he'd woken up (metaphorically and literally) and processed that America no longer truly believed in either good or evil, but only it what was convenient and expedient, he'd very nearly decided to put in for a transfer to Canada. Fortunately or unfortunately, common sense had prevailed. He'd spent the last seventy years on ice, and was in no real hurry when it came right down to it to live in a land which mass-produced the stuff.

'You're standing in my light,' the man sprawled at his feet observed. "D'you mind?'

'Sorry?' Rogers looked down. Bruce Banner didn't return the favor, just continued to lie peacefully on his back on one of the few steel-plated platforms still left at the top of Stark Tower. Above them, the Milky Way stretched as a vivid, ancient scar across the burnt-out, blackened skyline of Manhattan. Below them, the city leaked blood, and the Hudson River, dirty, dazed streams of tears.

"You're standing in my light,' Banner said again. "Or rather, theirs.' He nodded up to the unaccustomed stars. Rogers followed his gaze. He eased himself down to a sitting position, covering his mouth with a fist and burping lightly and discreetly. Every inch of his body ached, particularly his stomach, uncomfortably stuffed and distended as it was with one too many orders of shawarma.

'Why are we still here?' he asked. Banner actually turned his head at that.

'You got somewhere else to be?' he asked.

'Yes,' Rogers said. 'I had a date.'

'Ah.' He looked back up at the sky. 'Yes.' He paused. "With a woman?"

Rogers rolled his eyes at him. Banner's mouth tilted in a sweet, close-lipped smile.

'As opposed to destiny,' he elaborated.

Rogers said nothing. The smile flicked again.

'Does it hurt?' Rogers asked finally. "When you change?'

"What kind of question is that?'

'It hurt when I changed.'

"I imagine it did.' Banner rolled on his side, tucking his arm under his head. 'No. Or rather… Yes, but it beats the alternative.'

'Huh?' Rogers gave him a most peculiar look. "I thought you hated him.'

"Which 'him' are we talking on?'

'Which…' The bemused look deepened. 'Huh?' A small chuckle rang out, quiet and sweet again.

"Don't mind me,' Banner said, and flexing his own stomach, sat up fluidly and gracefully, and with no sign whatsoever that he'd spent the last twelve hours smashing evil space aliens and their neo-deific nominal overlord. ''Little known fact: large quantities of gamma radiation do really strange things to your sense of humor.'

'I don't think mine's quite thawed yet.'

'Give it time. Then again, you have to consider what you had to work with in the first place.' He peered, not up, but down this time. Way, way down, and winced rather. 'Something I obviously need to keep in mind when I'm considering my own handicaps. And I thought I left Harlem a mess.'

'I'll clean it up,' Captain America said unenthusiastically. "It's what they pay me for, after all.' He burped again, rather more loudly this time, and looked distinctly embarrassed. Banner laughed outright.

"The garlic gets you every time,' he said. 'Something to keep in mind if you're ever dining with Stark in the future. His girlfriend loves Italian, so he feels no reason to exercise restraint there.'

'I got that, yes.' He lay back this time, easing his protesting gut. 'What do you mean, it beats the alternative?'

"Did you like being puny and undersized and essentially defenseless? No. Don't bother. You obviously didn't, or you'd never have undergone the experimental treatment. And you never knew your father.'

'My… I'm missing something here, aren't I?'

"What _are_ they teaching at these schools these days,' Banner muttered ironically, and then… "Don't you ever sneak a peek at the classified files, Rogers? Just for fun? It's not as if we're _tame_ lions.'

"… Lewis Carroll?'

"Close, but no cigar. C.S. Lewis. Narnia. Look him up. Variations on your relevant theme: My Personal Wardrobe.'

Rogers was now not only feeling the effects of pained indigestion, but pained irritation. 'I may be a tame lion,' he said. "Though I do prefer the term law-abiding, but I'm still literate. The fact remains however, that however enhanced I may be, I can still only read so fast.'

Banner lay back beside him.

'To answer your question… My father was not a hero,' he said. 'He could, in fact, have given Loki lessons in essential villainy. He might not have had the scope of a god to work with, but he had something just as good in his book – me.'

'Oh,' Rogers said. Then… "Oh. No. That wasn't in the file they gave me.'

"The truly interesting bits never are.'

"So…' The hero beside him digested that, around another bout of reproachful garlic. 'You're compensating now? You. Erhm. Take your chronic anger at your father and your own violent tendencies, inherited and endowed, and channel them productively? When possible, anyway, in some sort of conscious and deliberate reversal of subconscious priority?

'Why Cap, I'm touched. You make it – and me - sound positively rational.'

'I don't think it's rational. I think it's your real secret.'

"Sorry?'

'You're angry all the time. Of course you are. So am I.' It was light and matter-of-fact. 'Of all people, I understand that. Of course I do; how can I not? We were meant to be brothers of a sort, after all, and now… What have we got to show for it? Or rather… What do we have that will compensate for the fact?'

'Lots of pretty girls out there who'd love to date you. I'd have a bit of a harder time, yeah?'

Rogers snorted. "Uh huh. Just for the record… They didn't leave all the interesting bits out of that file, Banner.'

In the starlight, Bruce Banner actually blushed. The undertone was definitely green.

"Anyway,' Rogers said, taking prudent pity on him. "I'm just saying. You got, as the saying goes, thoroughly gypped in your deal. We both did. And if rationalization can only come into that deal after the fact… If it gives us a little peace, and the ability to cope and to control ourselves, if not the hand Destiny dealt us, the oozing dirty whore…'

"Captain America! Your language!'

'Fuck that. I missed my date. I'm entitled to be a little petulant, I think, if only in private.'

"Knock yourself out. Or… If you prefer… Hulk smash?'

'No, thank you.' Rogers burped a third time, painfully. "Ow. I don't think my digestion's thawed either.'

Banner reached out and patted his shoulder, then flexed again and rose to his feet, holding out a hand.

'Come on,' he said. "There's a nice tea-shop a couple of blocks down; I spotted it when I was diverting that last ship, and adjusted the trajectory specifically so that it'd miss. I'm sure they have something that'll settle your stomach.'

'You adjusted the trajectory specifically so… What?'

'I like tea. It's eminently civilized. And we're brothers of a sort, aren't we? That would make me, like you, an essentially civilized man.'

'If you say so.'

Bruce Banner grinned as they made their way to the edge of the steel platform. Even as they walked, his shoulders began to flex and ripple subtly under their cloak of night and starlight.

"I do,' he said. "Tame, again, being something else entirely.'

"I'll have to take your word for that,' Steve Rogers said. "For the moment at least, and until I've caught up on all my reading.'

'The tea-shop has a book store attached,' Banner said. 'We'll see if they have the original in stock, if not the sequels.'

'Sequels? Plural? How many sequels are we talking, exactly?'

Banner's reply was somewhat incoherent, lost as it was in the echo of the triumphant snarling roar of the lion unleashed…. Rogers took a moment to watch as the huge dark shadow burst forth from the mantle of starlight surrounding, pouring out of the darkness above from the ancient, raised scar of an impossibly distant galaxy, from an impossibly distant past.

"Sorry,' he said, as the stars scattered around him, it seemed, flowing away and melding into the broken, tossed struts of the shattered city. "Didn't quite catch that?'

The answering lion's roar was again, incoherent, but the message was quite, quite clear. **Catch me, if you can…**

"Ooh,' Steve Rogers said, pleased. 'I got that one!' and with a neat, graceful leap - in the face of the garlic; he was, he reminded himself, after all, not just a soldier but a super soldier, and the forces of moral relativism were one thing, but he was Captain America, by the One True and Properly Christian God Who (he was pretty darned sure) Didn't Dress Like That –

Jumped.


	2. Sunrise Over Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Steve continue to ponder Life, the Universe, and Everything.

Bruce Banner sits on the upper curve of the reborn "S" on Stark Tower and watches the sun rise. Beside him, Steve sits, working his way through a bag of a dozen Egg McMuffins, the accompanying hash-browns, and a family-sized thermos of milky, fragrant coffee. Banner disdains the food, but another thermos sits beside him, not of coffee, but of eminently civilized Earl Grey tea. Hot, of course, and sugarless as only eminently civilized men prefer it.

"You sure you don't want one?' Steve asks him, around an overflowing mouthful. Banner shakes his head. Steve shrugs and stuffs. Banner can't help but smile a little as he glances sideways. Some things never change, he reflects, no matter the time or generation, and the wolfish appetite of strong young men is one of them… The smile disappears as he looks out over the city again. Steve pops in the last of his McMuffin and slides back a bit, crossing his legs as he digs in the bag for another hashbrown. He likes to alternate them; it appeals to his sense of the orderly, and he glances sideways too, at his companion as the most unlikely sound of birdsong begins to echo through the still numb and crippled streets of New York.

"This is becoming a habit," he observes. "What gives?'

"You asked me if it hurts," Banner says, still looking over the city. "Do you understand what you were asking?'

Steve Rogers, a.k.a Captain America (though he isn't dressed for the occasion this morning; he's attired instead, in a pair of striped flannel pajama bottoms, a white T-shirt and a black motorcycle jacket that he found in a thrift store) tears open a packet of ketchup with his teeth and squeezes it directly into his mouth, following it with a chaser of hash-brown.

"I don't know," he says. "You tell me."

"I'm a doctor," Banner says. "That means something, you know? It's not my secret identity or anything, it's who I am. And you… You were designed to kill.'

Captain America turns his head and examines him.

"That's not exactly… exact," he says at last. "I mean… One could certainly look at it that way; hell, the first question I was asked when being recruited for the Super Soldier project was whether I wanted to kill some Nazis… But I hesitated, you know?'

"I should hope so," Banner says, and then… "Why?'

"Because it wasn't the right question," Steve says. "And I couldn't give them the right answer.' He is very prompt, as if he's given it a lot of thought. Banner unscrews the top of his thermos and sips. Nothing in the world, he thinks, tastes quite so disgusting as Earl Grey Tea, Hot, first thing in the morning. He sips again, masking his distaste with the ease of far too much practice. Civilization, and civility, be it ever so glorious, does have its necessary price.

"Go on," he says.

"I didn't want to kill Nazis," Steve Rogers says. "I wanted to heal the world. It was wounded and bleeding, sick with gangrene and rot, and I wanted to oust the infection. There was a price to be paid, of course there was… There always is… But what price that, compared to the other?"

"And they told you that you weren't big enough to fight? Or heal, as the case may be?'

'I was young and stupid," Steve says. "What did I know?' He put the bag aside and turned his face up to the sun. "Bruce?'

"Mm?'

"Do you believe in God?"

"Huh?' Bruce Banner, . The Incredible Hulk, looks at the young man blankly. "Where the heck did that come from?'

"I wonder, sometimes, what the point is of all this. Whether there is a point, or a plan, or whether it really is all random. Whether we're random.'

Bruce considers that.

"The world is a beautiful place," he says at last. "So beautiful. We're gifted, we mortals, with such wonder and beauty, and what do we do with it, every chance we get? We break it, we destroy it, we contaminate it… And they ask me why I'm pissed all the time. It didn't start, you know, in the lab and with the gamma rays. They only gave me a way to express myself. Much like the army did you.'

Steve Rogers sighs.

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe I wasn't thinking about questions or answers after all. Maybe I just read too many overly dramatic and badly written comic books when I was a kid, and faced with one come to life before me, wanted to be the hero. Maybe I still do."

"We all do," Banner says, and eyes his thermos of tea, with slightly more obvious distaste this time. "But there's that price to be paid. Vaccines, after all, are derived from the original viruses."

"Virii."

"Listen to you." It's affectionate, though, and Steve offers him a bit of a shy grin of his own. It is as pure and beautiful a specimen as any of the worlds Banner has explored in his laboratory and through his microscopes, and the effect is promptly and thoroughly ruined by the third splort of packaged ketchup.

"Seriously though," he says, when the final Egg McMuffin has fulfilled its glorious burden and purpose. "Why do we keep coming up here?"

"It does hurt," Banner says. "To answer your question. But the hurt's not in the growing. It's in the reducing. Once you pass the point… There's just no going back."

There was a pause.

"Is this about my date?' Steve asks suspiciously. "Because you know, I could have sworn you told Tony that you weren't that kind of doctor."

'I'm not," Banner says. "I'm still, though, despite popular belief, a human being, and you asked me a question, and to answer your question, I don't know if I believe in God, but I do believe in vaccines, even if I'm stuck with life as the neo-evolved virus as the price of it all. And sure I'm angry, but how many people do you think go into medicine because they're happy? A well-developed sense of chronic anger, appropriately directed, of course, is one of the real job requirements.'

Steve sets his bag of breakfast aside and pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead on his arms. The breeze ruffles his blond hair softly. Banner reaches into his own inner jacket pocket and pulling out a book, turning to the marked page.

 _'"One word, Ma'am,"_ he read. _"One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one more thing to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."_

He closes the book, and tucks it away. Captain America scrubs his eyes, not as discreetly as he thinks, but Bruce Banner is a kind man, or tries to be anyway, and politely ignores the both the fact and the ensuing honk into the pristine handkerchief that follows, even as he retrieves his tea.

"'Nother question," Steve says. "Why do you keep drinking that manky shit when you hate as much as you do?'

"They told me it'd put hair on my chest," Banner says, poker-faced. "And help me grow big and tall. Like you."

Steve snorts, and can't help himself, dissolves into fits of most unmanly giggles.


	3. Stark on Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is waiting for Cap when he receives an unexpected visitor - and an opportunity to finally, finally get through to the temporally disoriented Steve.

 

*

 

"So what's the deal with you two?'

The voice is as jarring as it is perky. Banner, sitting cross-legged on the 'R' this morning (he's developed Steve's habit of rotating letters on a schedule) grits his teeth automatically, then, gingerly loosening his jaw, sighs soundlessly in relief. Much as Stark annoys him, he doesn't… quite… piss him off, so the Other Guy, snoring away after a long series of late nights rerouting mountains passes and diverting avalanche paths in preparation for the ski season over in Colorado, only grunts and turns over.

"Hello, Stark," he says, and screws the lid off the top of his thermos. Hot chocolate this morning. He's tired, and the Other Guy hates Earl Grey, Hot even more than he does. No point in rocking the boat, or the internal cradle, as the case may be. "How are you?'

"Pepper's quite satisfied with the status quo, thank you. How's Steve?'

"If you're inquiring on his general well-being, he's coming along nicely." He sips his chocolate. The Other Guy snores. With the addition of the mini-marshmallows, it's more of a purr. "Though, that being said, you can tell Fury – again – that no matter my quirks and eccentricities, my oath of medical confidentiality still stands. He's not getting squat on the details.'

"When did you become that kind of doctor again?"

"I've always been that kind of doctor." It's more than a bit rude, but an effective physician, Banner has learned, plays to his audience, and no one has ever said that Tony Stark is any sort of paragon of subtlety.

"Huh?' his audience says blankly. Bruce sighs again, not quite soundlessly this time.

"I don't discuss my personal life with those not a part of it, Stark," he says gently. "Nor anyone else's. You may be able to buy and sell the world, but class and gentlemanly manners don't have price tags, or shouldn't, anyway. Now, go away, would you? Please?"

Tony Stark actually looks genuinely hurt for a split second, but only for a split second.

"It's my tower. You go away."

"Really?" Banner looks at him, and… What the hell. He pokes the Other Guy just enough to provoke an inquiring snore that turns whites of his eyes an ever-so-pale shade of green. "I mean… Really? We're at the top of the highest building in North America, and you're telling me to take a flying leap?'

"You can shove me all you want," Stark says sullenly. "I can fly."

"You don't say," Banner sips his hot chocolate one more time, just for the pleasure of the fact that it isn't Earl Grey, Hot, before backhanding the man right off the R and down three hundred stories to the streets below.

"That," Stark informs him as he soars back up and reseats himself, removing his helmet as he does so, "Was neither classy, nor gentlemanly."

"Oh well," Bruce says peaceably, and lies on his back, one arm tucked under his head. He watches the clouds float by as Tony glares at him, and turns his head. "Yes?"

"You're really annoying, you know that? You're one of the only people I've ever met who's as smart as I am, and yet you refuse to share the love. I'm not that bad, really."

"Yes you are. And I do appreciate your brain, I just don't appreciate everything that comes with it."

"So what, my personality sets you on edge or something?'

"Or something," Banner agrees. "Don't take it badly. I accept you for who you are; I just don't want to associate with you on the personal level.'

"Why not? You associate with everyone else on the team! You even went out for lunch with Thor the other day!"

"Case in point: friends don't spy on would-be friends. And we weren't socializing anyway, we were consulting."

"On what?'

"Loki. He wanted to know if I would be able to provide him with any potentially relevant insights into… How did he put it… 'the chronically unsettled temperament.'"

"Huh?'

"He is," Banner says, patiently. "A _prince_. One day he will be a king, and his adopted brother and next-in-line is an incorrigible psychopath with more back issues than Playboy, never mind all of the powers of a small-g god and a now-personal grudge against my home planet. I felt it both my personal and professional _responsibility_.'

"I have a chronically unsettled temperament and he didn't offer to buy me dinner!"

"That's because he thinks you're a twit. He's just too well brought up to say so." The Other Guy grunts in agreement, and rolls over… Banner turns on his side and peers over the side of the tower.

"Nicely done," he says to the Other Guy. 'That might just bruise his ass, if not his ego."

"Bruce!" a voice greets him. "You're back! How was Colorado?"

"Cold," Bruce says, accepting the proffered, still-warm blueberry strudel with only a slight pang of guilt. Steve might be a growing boy, but from the smell of his backpack, he also hit Zabar's for half their morning stock of bagels and smoked salmon. "I worked up a good sweat, but I'm still working around the topless issue."

"Spandex," Captain America advises, plunking himself down beside him. "It stretches like you wouldn't believe." He cranes his neck. "That's some arc. Olympic-worthy, even. What did he say to piss you off this time?'

"Nothing in particular." Banner flexes and sits up, dangling his bare feet over the side of the R. "Steve?'

"Yeah?"

"You _are_ aware that the entire team thinks we're sleeping together, aren't you?"

'You don't say.'

"Yep. And half of Asgard too. Thor really got himself worked up over the thought that I might be taking advantage of you."

Captain America can't help but snort, but sobers quickly.

"You didn't hurt him, did you?'

"Nah. I just adopted 'bewildered and bemused' look number six, and he was all over himself apologizing. I just wanted to make sure you're aware of what's running through peoples' minds.'

"Oh. Okay. Um. It's not running through your mind, is it?'

"Uh. No. I'm chronically angry, not repressed."

"Ah. Alright then." He removes his backpack, and from it, a fragrant bag of bagels, a tub of cream cheese, another of lox, and a pair of plastic butter knives. Banner gives him an odd look.

"You're not upset?'

"Why would I be upset?'

"I dunno. Because you're a traditional sort of man?'

"I am," Captain America concedes. "But speculation is just that - speculation, and freedom of thought and expression is constitutionally guaranteed. Too, it may come as a surprise, but mass sexual preoccupation is not exactly a post- World War Two development. My temporal peers might not have put every perverse and perverted thought in their heads out there for social dissection and analysis as seems mandated these days, but that certainly didn't mean that they didn't have them." He spreads cream cheese on a bagel. "And I was in the army besides."

"So… You're not offended by the particular type or trend of speculation?'

"It wouldn't make a difference whether I was or not, it seems."

"It would to me," Banner says. Steve looks him over

"They mean well," he says. "I understand that. But it's not about sex, is it? They're afraid of us… Both of us… And want to be reassured that we're normal. Happy, because we're safer that way.'

"You think they're afraid of you?'

"Yes." It is flat and unequivocal. "Oh, maybe not physically – I have restraint, after all – but otherwise? Somewhere, somewhen when I was out of it, the world lost its sense of the moral absolute; of any sense of definitive right and wrong, and that makes me, my past and potential political and social influence considered, and more than any serum ever could – a dangerous man. A marked man, when it comes right down to it. " He reaches for the lox. "Our friends aren't asking if we're in a relationship, because they truly want to know if we're getting it on, Banner. They're asking because someone – my money's on Fury- put the idea into their heads, because he wants to know if I have any so-called secrets that I would consider indicative of a moral and exploitable personal failing.'

"That's rather cynical of you.'

"Not terribly. I'm a soldier. It comes with the territory, and my inherent sense of the tactical got its makeover right along with me."

"So did mine," Banner says morosely. "It now consists of two words, "Hulk Smash."'

"There's something to be said for the clear and concise, straightforward approach," Steve agrees, and hauls a thermos out of his backpack. "Mushroom soup?"

"Condensed?'

"Campbell's predates even my sense of morality. I added milk though, instead of water this time.'

"No thanks. So, what do you want me to say when they ask again?'

Steve considers that.

"Scenario number one," he says. "We tell them the truth. They probably won't believe us; overly prurient imaginations aside, Tash and Pepper both have those largely thwarted penchants for directing rather than acting, never mind the workaholic partners…"

Banner sniggers.

"And we've both got really great hair."

"We do?'

"We do." He licks the plastic butter knife. "Never mind the fact that this century is far too preoccupied with instantaneous gratification. I vote we just keep our mouths shut and let them stew. It'll be good for all of them, never mind entertaining, especially when we move in together.'

"I beg your pardon?'

"The second bedroom in my new apartment is finished. I just got the bed delivered. A room-mate would be nice, and would help with the bills besides. "

"What happened to all your back pay?'

"I gave it away." He digs into the cream cheese again. "To people who need it more than I do. They weren't hard to find; that includes most of the population of Manhattan these days.'

"I don't really plan to stay in New York long term, you know.'

'You don't?' He looks up at that. He looks not just startled, but shocked, and crestfallen. Banner can't help but be a bit touched.

"You'll be fine," he says. "Fury will make sure of it."

"But Fury's not my friend.' It sounds achingly young, and vulnerable, and Bruce Banner's heart twists again, in spite of itself, tiredly and painfully.

"Not to sound like that kind of doctor," he says. "But you really need to work on that, man. Not with Fury, specifically; the man's a dick, but in general."

"I was working on it," Steve mutters. "And then I died for seventy years, and came back to life again."

"We all have our challenges. The trick is to find people who can relate."

That earns him a rather dour look. Banner grimaces.

"Thor's not that bad," he offers. "Bit of an egomaniac, and a bit too obsessed with his own hammer, but he's deeper than people give him credit for. And he's just as bemused by this world as you are; you could figure it out together."

"He's bemused because he's not human. I'm too human, that's my problem. And he's got that girlfriend besides, and any time he spent here with me would be at her – their - expense. I don't think I want to be responsible for that."

"Life is about more than romance, you know?'

"I know, but there's romance, and then there's love."

"What about Clint?'

"He never looks at anybody in the eye. Well he does, but only if their eye is their next target. And he thinks of me as a kid, anyway, and Tony's just…"

There was a whoosh, and a thud. "Just what?' the perky voice says

"Annoying," Bruce said. "And nosy."

"Psychologically unstable," Steve says primly. "And kind of an asshole."

"You've been reading my file again. Bad Capsicle." He settles himself and reaches for the bagels. Steve removes them firmly. Stark hmmphs.

"Pig."

"Oink" Steve said flatly. "Blame it on the bottle again, since that's what defines me."

Tony Stark actually has the grace to look discomfited at that.

"Look man," he says. "I didn't mean… It was a stressful moment. We all say things we don't mean in the stressful moments, yeah?'

"I never say what I don't mean. And for the record, that's a habit that predates my career as a lab rat."

"Oh for... I am _trying_ to _apologize_ here!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Because I'm not a heartless bastard, that's why! Well, technically I am, but…"

Steve gets to his feet, gathering up his backpack.

"Genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist," he recites. "None of those are terribly special in my book. The first was accidental, the second is your choice, the third was handed to you, and the fourth? The fourth is only what any decent person should aspire to, and you do it because it's good ad copy. The only thing that leaves you to your credit is the inexplicable love of a woman that you don't, and won't ever deserve, and don't have the humility to appreciate."

"Leave Pepper out of this! And I do so appreciate her! And…" He splutters. "I was ready to die with that damned missile!"

"You can't even make the effort to buy her roses yourself. And the missile doesn't make you special either," Captain America says. "And the fact that you seem to think that it does, or there was any other choice available to you there only reinforces the fact."

"ARRGH!" Tony splutters again, springing to his feet, and off the side of the tower. Steve watches him plummet and sits down again. Bruce eyes him.

'You really need to stop projecting there," he observes. "For the record.'

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"He's not his father. I know you never had one, and that you resent him for the fact, and resent him even more for the fact of where his father's experimentation has landed you, and the universe for the fact that his father isn't here to answer for the fact… But your time-slip isn't Stark's fault, Steve. And I know you don't know him well… But Tony Stark doesn't apologize. To anyone, for anything, least of all his lab rats. That, in and of itself… Proves that he thinks you're pretty special.'

'And what about Pepper's roses?'

Bruce actually laughs.

"Trust me," he says. "The genius bag? Highly overrated. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep track of things with novas blossoming in your brain full-time? Pepper understands that, and no matter how much she sulks and complains, she realizes that asking Jarvis to remember for him is about as romantic a gesture as it gets, from any man. It proves to her that he recognizes his handicaps – and they are handicaps, trust me again – and is making sure that she isn't affected by them.'

"I thought you don't like him!"

"I don't dislike him," Banner corrects. "I just prefer not to spend time with him, because his class of novas distract me from mine. That's got nothing to do with whether you and he like each other, though, does it?'

"We don't have anything in common!"

"I know that you're a good man, and that he tries – is trying - desperately to be one, and that he sees in you someone to help him along there."

"What?'

"He calls you 'old man'," Banner says. "There are two ways to interpret that slur, and I know that the slang is – was – as applicable in your day as it is now.'

Steve stares at him, taken aback. Banner nibbles at his strudel.

"Think about it," he advises. "And have a look at his file again, while you're at it. The Howard Stark you knew was a very different man from the Howard Stark his son knew. It might clear up a few things for you, including the fact of why said son is desperate enough for your attention to actually apologize.'

"I've already read them."

"Then you know you got the good bits of him," Banner said. "The bits that this Stark never knew. The bits he wants – no, needs to know about, in order to reconcile the good bits in himself."

Steve Rogers sinks down and thinks about that.

"I still think he's an asshole," he says eventually. Bruce smiles a little.

"We're all assholes," he says. "Every one of us. Sons of Adam and daughters of Eve all. Glory and shame enough to go around with that much left to spare, isn't that how the quote goes?'

'Wardrobes," Steve says morosely. "Particularly the temporal ones, are highly overrated."

"Are they? I'll have to take your word on that. I was glad enough to leave my own past behind, the occasional pleasant moments notwithstanding."

"I missed my pleasant moment."

For a split second… Just for a split second… A flash of green shows.

"Word of advice?" Banner says.

"Yeah?'

"Let it go. Let her go.'

And there it is. And just like that, the damned dam finally, finally breaks. He puts up a valiant struggle, the not-that-kind-of-doctor notes, but in the end…

Seventy years is a long, long time. Seventy years' worth of tears, frozen tears, thawed all at once, it seems, and the man beside him turns, rising to his knees and wrapping him up in those surprisingly strong arms as Captain America chokes, wailing on the stunning flood of tears.

"Shh. Shh now," Banner soothes. "Shh, Steve. I'm right here. Just let it out, okay? Let it out, and let it go."

"I can't! You don't understand, you don't.."

"I do. I do. And you can. It's alright, Steve. It's alright."

"But…"

"It's alright," he says again. "She'd want you to. I know."

"But I don't want to!"

"Sometimes," Bruce Banner says, stroking the blond hair and shaking shoulders. "We just don't get what we want, do we? Sometimes we don't even get what we need. Sometimes, we just get… What is. What happens. And it's never all bad. It can't be. That's just not how the universe works."

"It's just so weird here! Now!"

"It's weirder in here,' Banner says, tapping his own head. "Trust me."

That actually earns him a sodden chuckle, and a hitched breath. The first breath, and it takes awhile again, but finally, finally, the young man begins to calm.

"I do." He sniffles into his shoulder. "Trust you, I mean."

"Then take these…" He shoves the backpack. "And go find Tony. Accept his apology, and let him be an asshole. It's just his way, really."

"Yeah," a voice said from just below. "It's just my way. Really."

"Stark? How long have you been hovering there?'

"Since I jumped," Stark said, floating up. "Sometimes I like to do my reconnaissance the old-fashioned way, and the wind keeps blowing all the damned bugs off these letters besides."

"The wind," Banner says, 'has nothing do with it."

"Oh for God's sake, Banner! Do you know how much that technology costs?"

"We didn't know whether they were your bugs or Fury's," Steve says, wiping his nose. "And you may be an asshole, but he's just a dick.'

"Finally. Something we can agree on." He seats himself alongside, setting his helmet aside. "Though to be fair, he did try to stop the launch of that missile."

"Lesson number one," Steve says. "That was an act that doesn't even fall on the scale for essential human decency."

"It doesn't?'

"No. It just qualifies you as a human being."

'Oh." Stark considers that. "Okay." He looks up as Banner rises to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Bruce says. "I spent the night playing Lego with the mountains near Boulder. Hulk Sleepy.'

"I have beds downstairs, if you like?'

"Hulk no like. Hulk have own bed now, over…" He points vaguely west. "There. Own room, even. Right opposite Steve's."

"Oh my God. You did not move in with him! Do you have any idea what kind of strain that will put on Pepper's imagination?'

"What can Hulk say? Hulk not responsible for Stark's inadequacies," Banner says. "If Pepper needs to resort to imaginating Stark's friends in order to fulfil her needs."

"HEY!" Stark swats at him indignantly, but it is too late. Banner is already gone, an oddly graceful green blur smearing the now-vivid sunrise. "You're going to pay for that, you great… hulking…gamma-ridden… green… HULK!"

He splutters, muttering. Steve just sputters, mirthfully, into his thermos of soup.


End file.
